Why I Miss the Old Taylor Swift: A Manifesto

I try to think of myself as someone beyond the realm of what would be referred to as “basic.” Sure, I may once in a while indulge in an iced caramel macchiato and certainly rocked a pair of Ugg boots in middle school, but I like to think that I am for the most part beyond my days of basicness, so to speak. Yet we all have our vices, and we all have our basic white whales. Mine, admittedly, is old Taylor Swift.

It is not without shame that I admit this. I like to think of myself as a music connoisseur, a melodic intellectual. I take great joy in the finer parts of music, from Brahms’ orgasmic chord resolutions to modern alternative’s rebellious twist. Yet somewhere, deep in my heart, is a force beyond what I completely comprehend, pulling me–no, dragging me–to the affected country twang of Taylor Swift’s discography circa 2006-2010. I know it is not deep. I know it is not that good. Yet a force greater than myself, greater than any of us, tells me that, yes, “Teardrops on My Guitar” does totally explain my middle school crush and subsequent heartbreak perfectly.

This particular phenomenon is something I refer to as the Swift Effect. While my intellectual side screams that Swift’s early music is not, objectively, that incredible, and used a victim complex to help her rise to fame, I can’t help but rock out every time “Hey Stephen” comes on. My theory is that the Swift Effect stems from the fact that, for better or worse, a whole generation of girls grew up with early Swift’s extremely relatable lyrics narrating their lives. Old Taylor brings the same feelings that rewatching High School Musical or Disney princess movies bring: happiness from the sheer joy of remembering them being relatable. This is why, no matter what Swift does, she will always have an audience; because as much as adolescent girls hate to admit it, Swift has always been there for us.

So then begs the question of how Swift initially became the queen of our generation’s favorite guilty pleasure love songs. My theory is a mix of relatability, accessibility, and catchiness.

As I stated previously, the old Taylor Swift’s music is quintessentially relatable. No matter what ~boy problems~ you’re having, Swift has a song for you. Jealous of your best guy friend’s girlfriend? “You Belong With Me” will do the trick. Wanna express how much of a crush you have on your crush? “Hey Stephen” is your answer. Have a long term relationship where you’ve been through a great deal together? “Mine” is what you need. Hurt your love’s feelings and need to repent? “Back to December” will accurately describe every tribulation you face. Want to use Shakespeare metaphors to demonstrate a.) how pretentious you are, and b.) how much you like your lover? “Love Story” is what you need. Taylor Swift is the love doctor, and whatever your ailment, she has a prescription for you.

Old Taylor Swift is accessible for all. She is pop enough to be upbeat and played everywhere, but country enough to feel in touch with your red-blooded-American roots. Old Swift provided a whole generation of American girls an easy way to dabble in listening country music without the usual unfortunate side effect of having to listen to music about tractor-based copulation. She put forth your classic “easy listening” music, and boy, was it easy to listen to, as is proven by her millions of fans, myself included.

Finally, old Taylor Swift is undeniably catchy. Anyone who claims that they haven’t found themselves humming the chorus of “Fifteen” or “You Belong With Me” or “Picture to Burn” is a dirty liar. She manages to be fun to sing along to without being boring. And for that, the will forever and always be at the core of any late night dorm karaoke sing along party. Early Taylor Swift music will be stuck in all of our heads for a long time to come.

For these reasons, I believe that Taylor Swift and the Swift Effect will be around for many more years. I do wish, however unlikely, that Swift would go back to her fake-country-accent-God-fearing-days, as do most girls in my generation whose hearts beat to the tempo of “White Horse.” If, as Swift says, the Old Taylor is truly dead, I will, openly and slightly shamefully, mourn her death.